


hurt feelings

by youcouldmakealife



Series: but always in tandem [23]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “You think Elliott isn’t going to figure it out?” Crane asks. “He’s not stupid.”“I know he’s not, just,” Robbie says. “Don’t tell anyone.”“That’s all you,” Crane says. “Not an amicable divorce, then?”





	

Robbie leaves the bar with a complete stranger in tow. For a minute that’s an exhilarating feeling, but then his confidence deserts him and he’s a bit at a loss. “Should we get an Uber or something?” Robbie asks.

“My place is like, a five minute walk away but it’s kind of — your hotel might be better?” the guy says.

“I have a roommate,” Robbie says.

“Oh,” the guy says. “Um. My place then.”

It really is maybe seven minutes away max, but in the biting cold, those seven minutes are brutal. On the walk, the guy tells him his name is Chris. Robbie feel like a fucking dick for not asking, but it’s not like they’d talked a lot before Robbie left with him. He doesn’t look like the serial killing type or whatever, but man, Robbie knows a grand total of his name by this point, and he didn’t even know it when he implicitly asked him if he wanted to fuck. Even Georgie got names before he’d proposition someone.

Chris lives at a place Robbie initially thinks is an apartment building, but once they get in and Robbie sees the bored student reading at the front desk, he realizes it’s a dorm.

“Student, huh?” Robbie asks in the elevator. “Please tell me you’re not a freshman or something.”

“Second year, don’t worry,” Chris says.

“Cool,” Robbie says, even though that makes him, like — possibly nineteen. At twenty-three it isn’t that weird, but still.

His room is definitely a far cry from Robbie’s dorm rooms. It looks more like a three star hotel room, king bed and his own bathroom, or would if it wasn’t kind of a mess, which Robbie _does_ recognize.

Robbie whistles. “How much does this set you back?”

Chris shrugs sheepishly, which Robbie figures means, ‘Who knows, my parents paid for it.’

Kind of makes sense in hindsight, considering most students can’t afford eight dollar pints. Robbie sure as shit couldn’t when he was one, Canadian dollar or not. Even now the price makes him wince, though he can definitely afford it.

“Well, nice room,” Robbie says awkwardly. 

“Thanks,” Chris says. He’s not really — attractive. Like, he’s not ugly or anything, he’s fine, Robbie’s just not really…into him.

It’s a little better when clothes come off, because he’s got a pretty decent body. “You play hockey or just watch it?” Robbie asks.

“Played as a kid,” Chris says. “I’m on the varsity soccer team here.”

“It did you good,” Robbie says.

Chris laughs. “Thanks.”

There’s this awkward silence that drags on, until Chris says “You wanna—”, and Robbie interrupts with a relieved, “Yeah sure.” He doesn’t want to like — book it, that’d be super shitty after dragging him out of the bar, and he hasn’t got laid in — wow, too long, so it’s fine, he just…kind of wants to get it over with? That sounds horrible, but.

The sex is fine. Better than jerking off in some ways, kind of worse in others. Chris can’t keep his hips down, and Robbie throws an arm over them after a bit, but he thinks he’s going to sound kind of hoarse tomorrow anyway, which, fine. It’s not Chris’ first time blowing a dude, but you can tell he hasn’t done it much, everything a little hesitant, experimental. 

Basically the second Robbie gets off he starts getting dressed again, and Chris takes his cue. 

“I should get an Uber,” Robbie says.

“If you’re at the Chateau Laurier, you’re like five minutes away,” Chris says. “Walking.”

“It’s freezing out,” Robbie says, and honestly, he wants an excuse to book it anyway.

“You play on ice,” Chris says. “For a living.”

“Arenas don’t usually have _wind chill_ ,” Robbie says.

“Fair enough,” Chris says with a little laugh. “So um—”

“I gotta go,” Robbie says, hooking his thumb at the door. “It was…cool to meet you?”

“Sure,” Chris says.

There’s a cab chilling like right outside when Robbie gets down to the lobby, Uber app already open, which feels like destiny. The cab driver raises an eyebrow at him when Robbie says the address, and Robbie gets that when he gets dropped off at the hotel like a minute later, so he guesses Chris wasn’t kidding about the walk thing. 

“Shit, sorry,” Robbie says, and gives him a 200% tip for not kicking him out of his cab as a waste of time. 

Matty’s asleep when Robbie gets back, which means he must’ve left soon after Robbie. Probably got hit by the sugar bombs. Matty loves them, but every time he does shooters he gets a sugar crash like a kid, maybe because it’s one of the only times he’ll actually eat — drink? — sugar. 

The next morning Matty’s up before him. A lot before him, apparently, because Robbie wakes up to a knock on their door, sits up to the smell of coffee.

“Breakfast in bed?” Robbie asks, when Matty brings in a room service tray. “You’re so sweet to me.”

“Figure we need to talk,” Matty says. “So.”

“This is a _trap_ breakfast in bed?” Robbie says.

“Kinda,” Matty says. “Omelet?”

“I guess,” Robbie sighs.

Matty takes the desk, but turns toward Robbie in a way that makes Robbie think this is probably going to be a Serious Talk, which. Wonderful. Robbie loves those.

“Good coffee,” Robbie says after a minute of both of them eating, Matty staring at him, Robbie avoiding looking back.

“Yeah,” Matty says. “What was that last night?”

“I hooked up,” Robbie says. “It’s not really a big deal.”

Matty gives him a look.

“What?” Robbie asks defensively.

“You left like a minute after you met him,” Matty says.

“I can’t pick up now?” Robbie asks. “Just because you don’t?”

“When did I say that?” Matty asks. “It just wasn’t like you.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Robbie asks. “That could be me. The fuck you know about it?”

“Robbie,” Matty says. “I don’t know you? Seriously? We’ve shared a room for three years, how many times have you hooked up?”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t do it,” Robbie says. “And why are you turning this into a thing? Dougie used to hook up all the time before he met Lauren, I bet you didn’t give him shit about it.”

“I’m not giving you shit,” Matty says. “I’m — you’ve been really —”

“Not everyone needs shit to be so serious all the time,” Robbie interrupts. He doesn’t want to know what Matty thinks he’s been. “No fucking wonder you never get laid, if it’s always such a big fucking deal. Stop being such a needy bitch and maybe you’ll finally get some.”

Matty doesn’t say anything.

“Shit,” Robbie says. “I-”

“That was really mean,” Matty says quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” Robbie says. “I didn’t mean—”

“Let’s just — I’m gonna go take a shower,” Matty says, leaves his breakfast half-eaten. Anyone else would slam the bathroom door behind them, but Matty closes it with a quiet click, and that makes Robbie feel worse.

Robbie forgoes the shower and gets dressed since he’s pretty sure Matty would prefer him not being there when he gets out. They’re heading out after breakfast, and they’ve got an optional practice that afternoon, so either Matty goes and Robbie has the room to himself, or Matty doesn’t and Robbie can go, because this is one of those ‘I need space, Lombardi’ fights they got into more their rookie year. Back then Matty would switch with Wheels. He might again. Robbie wouldn’t really want to share a room with the dick who called him a needy bitch for like, not slutting around. Great fucking job, Lombardi.

Robbie’s not really hungry anymore, but he grabs himself something anyway, gets another cup of coffee. Wheels is sitting with Craney and Georgie, and Robbie hesitates for a moment before heading over.

“Hey, Romeo,” Wheels says. “The fuck was that last night?”

Robbie really doesn’t want to talk about it, but he can feel Georgie’s eyes on him, and he doesn’t want him to think he pussied out or something, just did it to bug him.

“What can I say,” Robbie says. “I’m irresistible.”

“You’re slutty, is what you are,” Wheels says.

“Hey,” Robbie says mildly, blinks when Georgie says “Hey,” sharper.

“It’s not the gay thing,” Wheels says. “You’d know I’d say it to any of the guys.”

He would, too. Robbie’s not offended, even if Georgie is. Maybe he doesn’t like a competitor for his slutty crown. Or maybe he doesn’t like that Robbie hasn’t been chastely heartbroken about him for years or whatever the fuck.

“Oh shit,” Wheels says, eyes cutting to Georgie, then back to Robbie, all wide. It takes Robbie a second to put together why he’s panicking, but when he figures it out, he laughs.

“Quit freaking out, you didn’t out me,” Robbie says. “Georgie knows.”

Georgie quirks a smile at him, probably because _knows_ is a bit of an understatement. Robbie tries to ignore it, looks at Crane instead, who has this narrow-eyed look on him like he knows all of his fucking secrets. Robbie narrows his eyes right back.

“Anything interesting happen after I slutted off?” Robbie asks.

“I said I was sorry,” Wheels mutters.

“You didn’t, actually,” Robbie says, and when Wheels opens his mouth, “Ugh, don’t say sorry, dude, I’m not a delicate fucking flower, you didn’t hurt my precious feelings. Matty was passed out when I got back, so I guess the sugar caught up to him?”

“Understatement, man,” Wheels says. “It took me and Georgie to get his heavy ass back.”

“Thought you’d be hooking up with that blonde,” Robbie says, keeping his voice light.

“I wasn’t,” Georgie says, just as light.

“Only slut was you,” Crane says, in a light voice that feels…heavy, and raises an eyebrow at Robbie.

Yeah, Crane’s figured it out. Fuck.

Robbie finishes first, kicks Crane’s ankle under the table when he gets up. “Can I talk to you?” Robbie says. 

“Yup,” Crane says, shoveling one more bite of eggs into his mouth before scraping his chair back. Wheels and Georgie are both looking, but if Matty says anything to Crane about this morning Crane is going to be pissed as fuck at him, and Robbie wouldn’t blame him at all.

They get out of the conference room they’d stolen for breakfast, Crane rubbing out a smudge on the marble floor with the leather sole of his shoe. 

“Quit being OCD,” Robbie says.

“Quit being obsessive compulsive disorder?” Crane asks. “Want me to hit the ATM machine next?”

“Quit being a smartass,” Robbie says.

“Impossible,” Crane says very seriously.

“Just say it,” Robbie says. “Okay?”

“You and Georgie,” Crane says. “That was a thing?”

“That was a thing,” Robbie says. “I guess.”

“Okay,” Crane says.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Robbie says.

“You think Elliott isn’t going to figure it out?” Crane asks. “He’s not stupid.”

“I know he’s not, just,” Robbie says. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“That’s all you,” Crane says. “Not an amicable divorce, then?”

“Fuck off, Devon,” Robbie snaps.

“Definitely not amicable,” Crane says. “What happened there?”

Robbie hesitates. 

“I won’t push it,” Crane says.

“Thanks,” Robbie says.

“You should tell Elliott,” Crane says. “Seriously, he’s going to be all hurt feelings you didn’t, and I hate hurt feelings Elliott.”

He’s already all hurt feelings. It leaves a sour taste in Robbie’s mouth. “Don’t say that about Matty,” Robbie says.

“I hate _seeing_ hurt feelings Elliott,” Crane says. “It’s tragic. Like a puppy whose tail has been stepped on.”

“Yeah, uh,” Robbie says.

Crane eyes him. “Am I about to deal with hurt feelings Elliott?” 

“Probably,” Robbie says. “If he wants to, he can stay with you, right?”

“I’ll ask if I can get two doubles,” Crane says. “How big an asshole were you?”

“Pretty big,” Robbie says.

“Great, thanks,” Crane says.

“You’re still not going to—”

“I’m not going to tell your fucking secrets because you’re an asshole,” Crane says. “ _I’m_ not the asshole.”

“Thanks, Dev,” Robbie says.

“You are not welcome,” Crane says.

Matty hits the lobby around there, suitcase in tow, looks up at Robbie and Crane then looks down, somehow small looking even though he’s a fucking giant.

“Aw, _fuck_ you, Robbie,” Crane says.

“Yeah,” Robbie says. “That’s fair.”

*

Robbie would like his birthday a whole fuckton better if it didn’t always mean crunch time. He had friends born in the summer bitch about no one ever being around, friends born around Christmas bitch about getting Birthday-Christmas gifts, but Robbie’s birthday has no hockey, still school, and also, now that he’s in college, bonus exams. To add insult to injury, he’s got one first thing in the morning on his birthday. Basically the only good thing is that it’s the last day of exams, so he can get crunk that night.

“No one says crunk anymore, babe,” Georgie says.

“I say crunk,” Robbie says.

“I really wish you wouldn’t,” Georgie says.

“Not cool enough for crunk?” Robbie asks.

“Getting less and less attracted to you by the second,” Georgie says.

Robbie frowns.

“That isn’t helping,” Georgie says. This is the moment he’d kiss Robbie’s forehead or hand or something if they were in private, but considering he’s walking Robbie to his exam at ass-o’-clock — which Robbie appreciates, no lie — it gets him a pat on the back.

“It’s my birthday, I can say crunk,” Robbie mutters.

“Can, not should,” Georgie says, and when he drops his hand he brushes the back of his hand against Robbie’s, their knuckles catching.

Robbie thinks he does pretty decent on his finals — like, the last exam, but in general. He worked hard enough for it. His life has basically been studying and Georgie since the season ended, and some of those days it was only Georgie because Georgie would stick a book in his door and Robbie would slip in and crash there after him and Cassidy studied until their eyes crossed and they stumbled back from the library, drunk with exhaustion.

Georgie takes him out to lunch after, since he’s been done for days now, asshole, and hasn’t gone home yet because Robbie hadn’t. Robbie didn’t ask Georgie to stick around, but he’s glad he did, even though he knows he would have come back for his birthday. There’s no shortage of parties that night because freedom is theirs, and Cassidy’s invited him to one that sounds like it’ll be decent, Brayden to another that sounds okay. 

They’ve got a bottle of vodka to split between them and nothing to do tomorrow, since they’re not booted out for another few days, and a whole summer to — well. Robbie’s trying not to think about the summer, honestly, because he hasn’t gone a day without Georgie since he doesn’t even remember when. Christmas break? They spent most of spring break in Providence, the last couple days at Robbie’s parents. Georgie didn’t even mock the Bruins sheets eternally on his bed, just said he’d get him some new ones with Barons branding, like Robbie would suddenly betray a team he’d cheered for as long as he can remember for another, just because his boyfriend played for them.

Actually that sounds like a pretty compelling reason in hindsight.

That’s the thing about this summer: Georgie was great this season, Hobey Baker great, even if those fuckers stiffed him on it in the end, and Robbie has zero doubt that he’s going to sail through training camp, preseason, that they’re going to ask him to stay. And Robbie’s so fucking excited for him, honestly he is, it’s just —

He’s selfish, okay. If Georgie had been drafted to the Bruins or, hell, any of the teams in the tri-state area, Robbie could deal. He’s on his mamma’s car insurance and he can catch a train easy. It’d suck during roadies and when their schedules didn’t mesh or whatever, but Robbie could still see him a lot. Twenty hour round trip is a little less achievable. The flight’s not bad, but Robbie can’t afford to drop money on flights all the time. Georgie can afford to fly him in, Robbie guesses, but it’s not like Robbie’s going to be sitting on his hands. He’s got shit to do too. 

And that’s if Robbie doesn’t get an offer from the Caps, which he’s still really hoping for, going to work his ass off this summer so he has a fucking chance. That happens, they’re even further away from each other _and_ conflicting schedules will probably make seeing each other during the season impossible except when they play each other. Robbie’s trying not to dwell on it, and it hadn’t been too hard to push it down with finals breathing down the back of his neck, but now all that’s ahead of them is a long stretch of being away from one another, and that fucking sucks.

“What’s up?” Georgie says on their way back to the dorms. Robbie’s been debating their two party choices out loud, weighing pluses and minuses, and he doesn’t think that screams crisis, but. Georgie’s smart, and sensitive, and he knows Robbie better than anyone. It’s not surprising he picked up on the tension that has Robbie feeling wired, uneasy.

“Nothing,” Robbie says.

“Roberto,” Georgie says, which is always Georgie speak for ‘this is serious’. His parents and his grandparents are the only people who call Robbie Roberto on a regular basis otherwise, so it always gets his back up a little.

“I’m making a big deal out of nothing, whatever,” Robbie says.

“Talk about it in my room?” Georgie asks.

“I guess,” Robbie says, because it’s better than doing it in public, and there’s zero chance Georgie’s going to drop it.

“What’s up?” Georgie asks when they get back to his, sits on the bed and pats beside him when Robbie hovers. Robbie sits beside him, tucks his knees up after he’s toed off his shoes. 

“Summer’s coming,” Robbie says. “Like, soon.”

He kind of expects Georgie to be all enthusiastic, ‘yeah!’, or, ‘yeah, so?’, but Georgie sighs.

“Yeah,” he says. “Don’t suppose you’ll let me pack you and take you with me?”

“I’m not that small,” Robbie says, bristling, and Georgie laughs, wraps an arm around him.

“Hour away,” Georgie says. “And your mom’s cool with you borrowing her car, right? I’m sure my dad will let me.”

“Still, training,” Robbie says. “And like. Barons.” 

“I know,” Georgie says. “Babe, I know.”

“This just,” Robbie starts.

“Sucks,” Georgie says.

“Yeah,” Robbie says.

Georgie turns his head, kisses Robbie’s temple. “We’ll be okay, though,” he says.

“You think so?” Robbie asks.

“I think so,” Georgie confirms.

“Okay,” Robbie says, and when Georgie tilts his face towards him, he meets him in a kiss.


End file.
